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Cast in the Colonial Mold

The Geddy Foundry

Journeyman Roger Hohensee files a door knocker; journeyman Mike Noftsger pumps a bellows; apprentice Suzanne Dye makes a sand mold, and shop master Doc Hassell sharpens a sword. In the foreground is a bronze posnet made in the Getty Foundry for the Randolph kitchen in Colonial Williamsburg.

It's mostly in the molding. To cast molten brass, or pewter,
or bronze, or anything else into candlesticks and carriage hardware, gun parts
and spoons, andirons, sword hilts, and shoe buckles, and such, you have to be
good with bellows, forge, tongs, crucible, hammer, file, and grindstone. But
it's mostly in the molding. That's what they teach you at the James Geddy
Foundry, reconstructed on the foundations of a workshop built by a Williamsburg
family more than two and a half centuries ago.

George "Doc" Hassell is the shop
master now. During his thirty years of working to preserve this
eighteenth-century craft, he's cast hundreds of items—everything from
reproduction fire engine parts to hardware for a copy of George Washington's
coffin. It's hot, filthy work at a glowing forge, he and his foundry men bathed
in sweat and covered with ash, coal dust, and dirt, pumping bellows, pouring
liquid metal into a mold.

The margin for error is slight.
"Usually you're working with a crucible of hot metal that you're gripping with
huge tongs," Hassell says. "The object is to get the metal into the mold, not
in your shoe."

Viewed broadly, the business is
straightforward. An eighteenth-century text says, "The Founder requires a
strong Constitution and a robust Body, to undergo the Heat of the Fire, &c.
He has but few Principles to learn relating to his Trade, which he may soon
acquire if he has any tolerable share of Acuteness."

In a single mold, the center gate for the molten metal divides halves of a candlestick and carriage window latches beneath.

Hand-cast, hand-finished brass candlesticks blur the line between craftsmanship and art. Aesthetics counted as much as function.

To oversimplify, the founder puts
the pattern of half an object like a candlestick in a frame and fills it with a
fine, moist sand mixed with a little clay. He tamps the sand with a limber
hickory mallet and his fingers to make it take an exact impression. A cast of
the other half is made the same way. In both he cuts channels called sprues
into the sand to accept molten metal, incises small holes to let gas escape,
and locks the casts into iron containers called flasks.

From his forge the founder fetches
with a pair of tongs a clay pot of melted metal and pours it into the sprue
holes. Cooled and taken from the flasks, the halves of the castings are
soldered together and polished. Individual molds are destroyed in the process.
Frames, patterns, and sand—which used to come from rivers in England—are used
repeatedly.

Each step requires knowledge and
skill, but Hassell says the heart of the casting is in the mold making. So does
journeyman Michael Noftsger: "I think the hardest aspect of our trade is the
molding skills. If the mold has not been properly constructed, you will end up
with an inferior casting.

"You have to be aware of the
shapes that you are molding. For instance, each shape has a different degree
for venting the gases safely, allowing the excess air to escape and not
allowing the air to build up in a pocket to cause a void in the casting. You
also must have the right number of channels or gates to ensure a complete and
full casting. You must ensure that the gates are cut in the sand at the angles
to allow for a proper feed or flow into the mold free from excess turbulence."

As you know, it's mostly in the
molding.

James Geddy Sr. started the predecessor of today's foundry
behind his house at the corner of Palace Green and Duke of Gloucester Street.
After his death in 1744, his sons, William and David, ran the business. They
did some gunsmithing, made such things as buttons and spoons, and refurbished
other items from surgeon's instruments to razors and shears. They not only were
skilled brass founders, but also were buckle makers, cutlers, and sword-smiths.

Hassell, Noftsger, journeyman
Roger Hohensee, and apprentice Suzanne Dye stand in for the Geddys now. They
work primarily in brass and bronze. Copper and tin make bronze; copper and zinc
make brass. Bronze is stronger and more weather resistant. It was used for
cannons, bells and metalwork on ships. Brass had decorative and functional
applications for items from buckles to hinges on coach doors.

The work is carried on much as it
was before—quite as impressively now as then, thank you. "The amazing thing
about eighteenth-century technology is that it is very sophisticated," Hassell
says. "All the knowledge of this craft was preserved and passed on in the
workplace. Very little information was written down. You couldn't go to a
university to learn this and you couldn't study metallurgy or chemistry. There
were no labs, no books. All was learned and passed on from one generation to
another."

Metalworkers in eighteenth-century Great Britain and
colonial America had the same basic knowledge, but foundry size, organization,
and operation differed.

British foundries tended to
cluster in areas like Birmingham and Sheffield. The firms often were large and
specialized. Some used just one metal or made one product, like candlesticks or
thimbles. Many employed a sophisticated division of labor. In addition, British
metal goods producers also had a well-developed products distribution network.
Wholesalers employed salesmen. They called on retailers and carried pattern
books to show lines of items.

"A lot of English stuff survives
from the eighteenth century," Hassell says. "You always see good and bad pieces
from any time, but, in my opinion, much of this work is of astonishingly high
quality. They paid a lot of attention to design and had a sensitivity to
appearance. You have to look hard to find eighteenth-century work that is ugly
or clumsily done."

Colonial American foundries did
little production work. They couldn't. Protectionist British trade regulations
prohibited the importation of large amounts of raw metal. So, colonial foundry
men were generalists. American craftsmen tended to repair, maintain, sharpen,
refurbish, and polish goods. Frequently, American foundries also sold finished
metalware from Great Britain.

Handcrafted foundry goods vanished
in the nineteenth century with industrialization. Metalworkers helped speed the
transition. Late in the 1700s, British foundries made cylinders, pipes, and
valves for the first steam engines.

Hassell says he thinks that the
Geddy Foundry has an important role in the preservation of a sometimes
overlooked aspect of Williamsburg's and our nation's history. "People readily
see the value of preserving painting, architecture, music, and literature.
Often, they don't think about our technological culture," he says.

"They don't think about the
incredible achievements achieved by hand technology. In fact, it was an apex in
the progress of human technology and hand craftsmanship. Soon after this
period, the world would move into the Machine Age. The work we do at the
foundry shows the culmination of a long era in human history, history made by
ordinary people who worked with their hands."

R. Campbell, The London Tradesman, Being a Compendious
View of All the Trades, Professions, Arts, both Liberal and Mechanic, now
practised in the Cities of London and Westminster. Calculated for the
Information of PARENTS, and Instruction of YOUTH in their Choice of Business (T. Gardner, 1747).